


ANODYNE

by Orchard_Thief



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay Male Character, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchard_Thief/pseuds/Orchard_Thief
Summary: Anodyne (adj.)Capable of soothing or eliminating pain; (figuratively). Soothing or relaxing.***Atlas Alden wasn't expecting anything when he returned from overseas aside from capturing Grindelwald - however he got a fair bit more than what he bargained for.
Relationships: Theseus Scamander/Original Male Character(s), Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Atlas Alden was surprised by the thick plumes of smoke billowing in his face when the portkey he was taking landed on a rooftop somewhere in London. He'd expected the witches and wizards at the British embassy to have at least configured the portkey to land near his brother's house in the countryside. He guessed perhaps fast tracking a portkey between countries didn't always go smoothly. He didn't blame the embassy. In fact, he found some respect for them, despite landing him in a completely different area to where he needed to be. After all, Torquil Travers giving the order for all of his internationally deployed aurors to return home in less than twenty-four hours was a big ask - especially since many of them had been overseas for several years. 

A loud clunk emits from behind him. Atlas turns around to see a house elf with his trunk and a bucket - the bucket obviously being the portkey. Without saying anything, the elf holds her hand out for the portkey Atlas had been given. He obliges and hands over the hatbox he had been standing in only a few seconds ago. 

As the house elf prepares to leave, Atlas takes hold of his trunk before apparating out of the smoke and into the countryside, appearing in front of a fairly new homestead. The longer Atlas stares at the house, the more Muggle-like in appearance it seems. 

"Atlas? Is that you?"

An ebony skinned woman emerges from behind a large bush, a washing basket in hand. Her dark hair fell in thick ringlets, hanging just past her shoulders. Atlas gives the woman a crooked smile.

"Hello, Emma," He says as the woman drops her basket and comes racing over. Emma throws her arms around him, nearly tackling Atlas to the ground. "Hey!"

"You made it!" She exclaims, ignoring his sounds of protest about being hugged. "Castor said you were supposed to be coming - something about the Americans laying you off."

"Travers wants us all back," Atlas explains, trying to pry the woman off of him. "Where is Castor?"

"With the twins," Emma says, finally letting her brother-in-law go. "He was trying to put them to bed, but Leo wasn't having any of it which kept Ana awake."

"It sounds like they haven't changed much," Atlas says, taking his wand out and levitating his trunk once more. 

"They really haven't," Emma agrees, picking up her washing basket again. "Let's go inside. There's still some supper left in the oven if you're hungry."

Atlas follows Emma inside of the house, his nose instantly being assaulted with the smells of fresh baking and the scent of pumpkin soup lingering in the air. He inhales deeply, trying to smell more. The house is mostly the same as he remembered it as - white walls with oak panelling along the base as well as a mixture of Muggle and magical photographs decorating the hall. The biggest difference now was the presence of toys - also a mix of Muggle and magical - as well as several newer items of furniture. Emma leads him into a deceivingly large living room where Atlas' only and oldest brother, Castor, is parked on the couch with two curly haired children clamouring all over him. Atlas soundlessly lowers his trunk to the ground then pockets his wand.

"You two are supposed to be in bed!" Emma scolds, gaining the attention of the other three. "Leo, Ana, say hello to Uncle Atlas, then you're both off to bed."

"But mummy-" Both twins start to say, giving her big puppy dog eyes.

"No buts!" She interrupts, putting her hands on her hips. Leo pouts, sliding off of his father and slowly walks towards me. Ana quickly follows in suit, sticking close to her brother.

"Hello Uncle," Ana says, staring up at Atlas. She gives him a shy smile before pattering out of the room.

"Hi, Uncle Atlas!" Leo says, perking up slightly. "Can you tell me a story about America? Mummy and daddy always say you were in America catching bad wizards and I wanna know-"

"Tomorrow," Atlas says gently. "I'll tell you one at breakfast."

"But I wanna know now!"

"Leo, go to bed," Emma says sternly.

"Listen to your mother," Castor finally says, standing up. "If you don't go to bed right now, you won't get a single story from Atlas."

A conflicted look passes over the small child's face before he begrudgingly stomps out of the room and down the hall. Emma follows him, making sure both children were actually going to bed, leaving Castor and Atlas alone.

The two brothers were very similar. They both had dark heads of hair with eyes as equally dark, contrasting heavily with their pasty complections. Flecks of grey had begun to show in Castors hair, parenting young children and working a stressful job aging him faster than his younger brother. Atlas stood several inches shorter than his older brother, however he was definitely more toned - the physical aspect of his occupation evident. 

"They've grown since I last saw them," Atlas says, turning to face his older brother. "How old are they now?"

"They turn five in three months," Castor says. "Last time you were here, they would've just turned three."

"Has it really been that long?" Atlas asks, running a hand through his hair. "Merlin's beard..."

"You've been away for a long time, Atlas," Castor says, clapping him on the shoulder as he walks past. "A lot of things have changed. Come have something to eat."

Atlas follows him out to the hall and into the kitchen. He could more clearly smell the food from when he first entered the threshold of the homestead. The kitchen was cozy, with a log burner oven in the corner and small refrigerator - Atlas immediately realising there wasn't a strong enough presence of magic to interfere with Muggle technology. On the stove sat a large pot filled with what Atlas could only guess was pumpkin soup. 

As well as a large pantry, there was a small china cabinet with both fine china and plain crockery for standard meals. Castor sits at a small table, taking his wand out and waving it through the air. Atlas watches as a bowl comes flying from the cabinet, stopping at the stove to be filled with a thick soup. 

"Thank you," Atlas says, taking a seat across from Castor as the bowl lands in front of him.

"How were things in America?" Castor asks, watching Atlas begin spooning soup into his mouth. "There were rumours about an obscurial and Grindelwald in New York-"

"They're true," Atlas interrupts, setting his spoon down. "But I can't tell you much else."

"Why not?" He asks, leaning forward slightly. "Atlas-"

"I'm sorry, Castor," Atlas says with a sigh. "I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't. I only know what you know - like how he broke from his guard leaving the states. That's all I know - not even the Americans know, and I have to report to Travers in the morning for updates."

"What don't the Americans know?" Emma asks, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat beside her husband. 

"They don't know anything to do with Grindelwald's whereabouts," Atlas says hesitantly, glancing away from his brother.

"They don't know where he is?!" Castor blurts, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"Not specifically," Atlas says in a hurry, trying to correct his mistake. "They know he's in Europe."

"Europe?" Emma echoes, tilting her head to the side. "Is that good or bad?"

"You don't need to worry about it, Em," Castor says, turning to his wife. Atlas raises an eyebrow, staring at his brother.

"That's what people say when you should worry about it," she says, folding her arms. She rolls her eyes, looking to the wall on the other side of the small room. "I've heard his name before and I've seen it in the magic newspaper you read. Who is he?"

"He's no one, love," Castor says, glancing at his brother for help. "Just... Just a well known wizard."

"You're lying," She says, turning to look at him. "I deserve to know who Grindelwald is. I know I'm not a witch, but I'm married to you, a wizard, and have two children who are likely to have magic."

Atlas' gaze flickers between the two, sensing a rapidly rising tension. He coughs and gives his brother a pointed look. 

Castor hadn't told her.

"If you won't tell her, I will," Atlas says, picking up his spoon again and resuming eating. "She has the right to know, Castor."

"Thank you, Atlas."

Castor gives his younger brother a long look, eyebrow twitching. He says nothing, but instead continues to glare across the small table at him. 

"Fine," Atlas concedes, pushing away the now empty bowl of pumpkin soup. "Grindelwald is trying to break our international statute of secrecy. He's gaining notoriety amongst pureblood families - particularly the more noble houses."

"What does that mean for us?" Emma asks, now ignoring her husband. Her full attention was now on Atlas, clinging onto his words. "For the kids?"

"Nothing yet."

"Yet?"

"We have no idea what Grindelwald is up to - well, I have no idea at least," Atlas says, hastily adding the last part of the sentence. "I'm being briefed on it tomorrow, but I have a hunch Travers is sending the aurors out to find him."

"Okay," Emma says, nodding her head. "I heard Castor say something about an obscure or scurios? What's that? Or who?"

"Obscurial," Atlas corrects, glancing at his brother. "They're nearly always children who have suppressed their magical abilities. They usually die before adolescence."

"So why was Castor talking about it? It's not important, right?"

Atlas contemplates his answer, knowing whatever he said was based off of whispers witches and wizards had relayed back to the ministries across the world.

"We're not sure," He finally says. "We have reason to believe Grindelwald is going after this one obscurial. We don't know why, but we need to protect the obscurial at all costs - except all we know is he is also in Europe."

The three sit in silence. Atlas watches as Emma mulls over the information in her mind and Castor continues brooding.

"Is he dangerous?" Emma asks in a small voice. She looks at Atlas, her eyes uncertain. He gives her a short nod.

"Yes."

"No."

Castor stands up, shaking his head at Atlas. Emma gives him a confused look while Atlas gives him an irritated glare.

"He's not dangerous for us, Emma," Castor says calmly, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder. "You're not in any danger and neither are the children."

"And how do I know you're not lying to me again, Castor?" Emma asks, rising to her feet. "I've tried to find out who he is for months and now I'm only finding stuff out because your younger brother is here, and he just so understands I need to know about these things!"

"He's not dangerous!" Castor says loudly, his voice amplified in the small space. Atlas hastily draws his wand and points it at the door, casting a silent muffliato charm. "Emma, just listen to me. Grindelwald's not going to hurt you."

"Then why didn't you just tell me who he was?" Emma argues back. "If he's not dangerous, you would have just said! Atlas just said he was, and you're saying he's not, and Atlas is the only person here who's told me anything to do with this Grindelwald!"

Atlas hurriedly gets to his feet, disrupting the flow of the argument. His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands and the married couple stop telling for a brief second.

"I think I should go," Atlas says, heading for the door. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to start a fight."

"No, Atlas! Wait!" Castor says, striding after his brother. "Shit!"

Atlas ignores Castor and heads back into the living room, ready to collect his belongings and leave. As Atlas firmly grasps the handle on his trunk, he closes his eyes and pictures the famous Leaky Cauldron in his mind. A familiar sensation of being squashed and thrown forward overcomes Atlas and the pressure in his ears pop drastically.

He opens his eyes to find himself on the wet cobblestone outside of the dingy appearing pub, the street lamps outside attempting to penetrate the thick London smog which had settled since Atlas' earlier arrival. Atlas drags his trunk inside the entrance before tapping it with his wand once, levitating the rest of the way.

The pub was warm. The fire was roaring and witches, wizards, warlocks, and hags, were all drinking inside. Steering clear of the main throng of people, Atlas winds up at the counter.

"Could I get a room for a few days?" Atlas asks the house elf currently serving beverages behind the bar. 

"You're lucky - number ten is free," The house elf replies, magicking a key from thin air. "Five galleons and three sickles each night. Food not included."

Atlas hastily opens his trunk, muttering a quick summoning charm for his money before paying for the room. He takes the key from the elf before heading upstairs, the sound of people socialising dying away. It takes him almost no time at all to unpack his pyjamas and change. Tomorrow, he would need to search for a more permanent place to stay.


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

As light begins bleeding into the room, Atlas wakes. He lays in bed for a while, not quite used to the sudden change in time zone despite being given a potion to help with the onset of sleep deprivation when moving continents. He eventually gets up and dressed before heading downstairs.

The pub was a different scene from last night with various ministry workers having cups of coffee and tea as well as eating breakfast. Atlas orders a cup of tea from a house elf and takes a seat, thinking deeply about the argument Castor and Emma had last night. What if he has never said anything? What if he had insisted Grindelwald wasn't as bad as what he truly was? His brows knit together, reasoning with himself he had made the right choices. Emma deserved to know, didn't she?

"Is that the Atlas Alden?"

A familiar voice stirs Atlas from his thoughts and he looks up to see a tall man approaching him from the pub counter, a large smile spreading across his face.

"Theseus," Atlas says with a small smile. "It's been a while."

Theseus Scamander slides into the seat next to Atlas, placing a folded copy of the Daily Prophet on the table. 

"It's been two years hasn't it?" Theseus asks, receiving a nod from Atlas. "Wow."

"I know," Atlas says. "It doesn't feel like it's been that long. How've you been?"

"Good, I've been good," He says with an easy smile. "I managed to convince Leta to join the Ministry a few months ago. She's been enjoying it so far. Did you stay here last night?"

Theseus gestures around the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yeah," Atlas says. "I was planning on staying with Castor, but I thought I should stay here instead with the kids and everything." 

Theseus nods, buying the white lie.

Two cups and saucers appear in front of the wizards alongside two separate jugs of milk. Both men busy themselves with their drinks for a few seconds, halting the small talk they had been making.

"Any idea why Travers wants everyone back so early?" Atlas asks, taking a sip of his tea. Theseus' subtly scans the quiet pub, stealing glances at the two hags occupying the far corner and the house elves currently cleaning. His eyes linger on the several Ministry workers sitting nearby, deciding how quiet he should be with this conversation. "We weren't meant to be back for another ten months."

"He wants to brief everyone on the news - we think we know where he's going," Theseus says, keeping his voice low. "Rumours say Credence is in Paris, which means Grindelwald's already there." 

"Who's tracking Credence then?" Atlas asks, his brows creasing together as he sets his tea down. Theseus slowly returns his gaze to Atlas before letting out a sigh.

"Gunnar Grimmson," Theseus answers bitterly. Atlas stiffens at the name and a small scowl settles on his face. "For the time being anyway - I've got a proposal for Travers which could mean he doesn't have to get Grimmson to kill Credence-"

"Kill?!" Atlas splutters, his voice increasing in volume. "What do you mean-"

"Keep your voice down!" Theseus hisses, jerking his head towards the hags and wizards who were suddenly very interested in their conversation. "The ministry wants him dead."

"Why?" Atlas says. "Shouldn't they be trying to protect him?"

Theseus shakes his head.

"That's classified information," He says, calmly picking his tea up and taking a long sip. Theseus raises an eyebrow at Atlas, looking at him over the rim of the teacup. "Only the Heads of Departments and higher ups know - and the Unspeakables, naturally." 

"No need to brag your position, Theseus," Atlas says, draining the remainder of his tea before standing. The cup, saucer, and milk jug vanish from the table. "We should get to work. I'm picking Travers won't want any late arrivals today."

"That would be correct," Theseus says, also standing. He leaves the dregs of his tea in the cup and his crockery also vanishes. "I'll see you at work."

Theseus gives Atlas a small smile before vanishing with a pop. Atlas straightens his shirt and follows suit, apparating away from the Leaky Cauldron. 

Atlas appears in the Atrium of the Ministry Of Magic, taking a second to recognise the familiarity of the hundreds of offices lining the walls. He had forgotten the dark bricks the entire Ministry was seemingly made from and the obnoxiously large statue in the centre of the hall. Witches and wizards from all departments had already begun arriving, the Atrium bustling as people headed for the elevators. Several vendors were inside selling copies of the Daily Prophet hot off the press, and house elves were already cleaning wands.

Atlas joins the throngs of people, making a beeline for the elevators. He ignores everyone, focusing on arriving at the aurors department on time. 

"Atlas!"

Castor Alden rushes up to Atlas, matching him stride for stride.

"Look, about last night..." Castor says, looking down at his brother. "You shouldn't have been part of that argument. It shouldn't have happened in the first place."

Atlas says nothing and slips into a free elevator, pushing the level 2 button on his way inside before standing at the back. Castor follows, pressing the button for level 5. 

"I know I should've told her," Castor says, lowering the volume of his voice as more people fill the lift. "But I couldn't..."

"I know," Atlas says calmly. A man in a, typically English, grey trenchcoat with a brown leather briefcase manages to squeeze into the lift, keeping his head low. 

The elevator doors clang shut and suddenly, the lift is propelled backwards before shooting up into the ministry. 

"You're a family man, Castor," Atlas continues, keeping his eyes forward. "You didn't want Emma and the twins worried and for everything to be normal. You were scared."

He sighs, adjusting his hold on the strap hanging from the ceiling. 

"It wasn't my place to tell her, but she needed to know. It would've blown up more if I hadn't." 

"Level six - department of magical transportation, incorporating the Floor Network Authority, Broom Regularity Control, Portkey Office, and apparation test centre."

The lift comes to a jarring stop and the doors open. Several witches and wizards get out and the door shuts. 

"She doesn't trust me now," Castor says. "She hasn't said anything, but she doesn't need to."

"You'll just have to earn that trust back," Atlas says, keeping a calm tone. 

"How?"

"Castor, this is your wife - not mine," Atlas says, finally looking up at his brother. "I can't help you with this bit."

The lift surges backwards again and rockets up, causing many of the remaining passengers to sway on the spot. Castor lets out a long breath, nodding to himself.

"Right," He says, steeling himself. "Emma. The love of my life. I can talk to her."

"Level five - department of international magical co-operation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."

The elevator comes to a sudden halt and the doors clang open. Castor gives Atlas an appreciative smile before slipping out of the lift with many of the others inside - including the man in the blue coat. 

"For a man who doesn't often find himself in a relationship, he sure knows how to get involved in others," A woman says, turning to glance back at him. Atlas frowns, eyeing her carefully. He hadn't seen her at the Ministry before. Her eyes travel up and down him, as if she were analysing him. "The name's Kimi Kishi - I'm working with the Daily Prophet at the moment, but I do enjoy a bit of freelance."

Atlas stares at the woman, unsure of how to react. She continues to look at him through her slanted eyes, picking him apart. Unlike many Ministry wizards, she wore traditional attire - an immaculate pair of white dress robes paired with a red cloak and black fastenings. Slivers of golden material decorate the sleeves, each strip with intricate designs, indicating that these robes were handmade versus magically made - a rarity in the wizarding world. She couldn't have been much older than Atlas was, though not as old as Castor - probably in between the two Alden brothers.

"You missed your floor," He finally says, finding his voice. He found her unsettling. "The Daily Prophet is on level-"

"I'm doing a piece on the aurors today. Specifically with the ones Torquil brought back yesterday," Kishi says, giving Atlas a toothy smile, her crimson lipstick contrasting heavily against her impossibly white teeth. "I'm intrigued to hear about your time in America, Mr Alden. I've heard a lot about you from some of your colleagues and wizards outside of the Ministry."

Atlas bristles, returning his gaze to the front of the elevator. He didn't like her already and he'd never met the woman before in his life. He could feel her eyes still burning into him, but he continues to ignore her. As the lift comes to a halt, Atlas quickly files out of the lift with several other wizards in the department - none of them the aurors. 

As he brushes past Kimi Kishi, Atlas feels her arm hook itself in his. 

"If you don't mind escorting me to this morning's meeting..." Kishi says slyly, walking with Atlas.

"No."

He attempts to detangle his arm from hers, but she only seizes his wrist. Kishi squeezes her hand around him, a brief flicker of irritation passing over her face.

"I must insist," She presses, purring slightly. "I would hate to get lost."

"And I insist you find your own way," Atlas responds, wrenching his arm from her and striding away. "Goodbye."

He strides away, abandoning her in the hall. There were few witches and wizards around and, quite frankly, Atlas didn't care. He had a job to get to.

***

Atlas sits with all of the other aurors, the lot of them gathered around a long table. Travers hadn't arrived yet which was never a good sign. Instead, Kimi Kishi was talking to the aurors, her magical quill flying across a piece of floating parchment. Currently, she was yapping away to an Indian auror - Nisha Gore. She hadn't yet come to Atlas, but he was sure she'd be there soon. He still had hope their interactions that morning had put her off talking to her.

Nisha suddenly looks up across the opposite side of the room and sees Atlas, a scowl currently on her face. She makes her way through the throng of senior aurors, weaving around small groups of people.

"I thought you'd have been here earlier," Nisha Gore says as she reaches Atlas. "Would've saved me from that leech."

"I've been here for a while now," Atlas says, glancing over Nisha's shoulder. "I didn't see you come in."

"Strange. Usually you always see me," She says, raising an eyebrow. "What's on your mind then?"

"A few things, but mostly this," Atlas replies. "I wonder what they've got everyone here for..."

The door to the meeting room flies open, Travers striding in with two wizards in tow - Theseus Scamander and Gunnar Grimmson. Many aurors straighten their posture and zero in on the infamous bounty hunter - his reputation amongst official law enforcement low. A few whispers break out amongst the group, eyes on each of the three. Theseus glances at Atlas, giving his friend a brief nod of acknowledgement. 

"Listen up!" Travers barks, the room falling silent with the exception of Kishi's quill scribbling furiously. "If you aren't on a Grindelwald related case, get out of this room and get to work."

Several people get up and leave.

"The rest of you, I need a pile of all the information you have on the man," Travers continues, commanding the room. "We need all of it now. I want Alden, Darvish, Diggory, Gore, and McKinnon, to accompany me and Mr Scamander tomorrow."

"Why?" Asks Diggory, a wizard with a face comparable to that of a cherub. 

Travers shoots a look at Kishi in the corner and nods toward her. 

"Sorry, but you can't be in here right now," Theseus says firmly, studying towards the witch. She pouts, but obliges and removes herself and her belongings from the meeting room. As the door clicks shut behind her, Theseus casts a silencing charm on the door. Satisfied, Travers returns his attention to the collection of aurors in from of him.

"We need to pay a visit to Albus Dumbledore," Travers says calmly. Atlas glances at the other aurors mentioned, slightly alarmed. "It might pay to have a few of us there."

"Why?" Atlas asks, frowning. It wasn't exactly private that Travers absolutely despised Dumbledore - for what reason, Atlas did not know. "So you can force him to work with the Ministry?"

Travers eyes settle on Atlas' and he gives him a crooked smile.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter Three

Atlas didn't feel at all comfortable planning for Albus Dumbledore's confrontation. He didn't trust Travers' judgement, but he had to follow the orders he was given. The plan set was simple - apparate to Hogwarts, confront Dumbledore about his past friendship with Gellert Grindelwald and force his hand to join the manhunt.

Easy.

But despite never being one of Dumbledore's favourite students, Atlas still held the man in reasonably high regard and knew there would be no way Travers could do anything about Dumbledore's decision. He'd gone over the possibility Dumbledore could be helping Grindelwald before, but there was no evidence as well as a large sense of doubt surrounding the theory.

"I don't like this," Atlas says, his brown creasing. He looks at the few Aurors around the table. Travers and Theseus had gone to take care of something - sounded like an important meeting or something similar. "They're not serious about trying to force his hand are they?"

"I think they are," McCready says, leaning back in his chair. "They can't though. The man's got nothing on him they can use - everything they have isn't credible."

"I'm sure Travers will find something," Diggory says. "It's not exactly a secret about how much Travers' dislikes the man."

"I don't think it's a smart move to do this," Nisha Gore says, rising from her chair at the head of the table. "He's a powerful wizard and a powerful ally for us to have - this is just going to throw that all away. If Dumbledore wanted to help or could help, he would've come by now. This is going to pit him against the Ministry forever."

A ripple of murmuring floats around the room, agreeing with Nisha.

"What if we need to push Dumbledore into our hands?" Darvish asks loudly, disrupting the chatter. "If he doesn't want to help, we need to make him help."

"We can't force Albus Dumbledore to co-operate with the Ministry," Nisha says, leaning onto the long table. She steels her gaze at Darvish. "He's our only hope at defeating Grindelwald - we can't afford to piss him off."

Atlas glances between the two, watching their facial expressions. Nisha's eyebrow was twitching madly, clearly becoming annoyed already. Darvish on the other hand... He had a calm face, yet a somewhat smug smirk slowly forming.

"But what if Dumbledore's still friends with Grindelwald?" He presses, folding his arms across his chest. "Then what? He won't help us. He'll go against us. We need to hold something over him."

"No, we don't!" She argues, her face growing red. "There are other ways-"

"Alright! That's enough!" McKinnon interrupts, banging a fist on the table. "Darvish, shut up. No one else agrees with your opinion. Gore, you're not running this. We can't do anything about it. Now sit down."

Nisha glowers across the table at Darvish but slowly sinks back into her seat. A few knocks come from the door and Atlas hesitates before drawing his wand. He looks to McKinnon, who nods, and flicks his wand through the air. The door unlocks and in steps Kimi Kishi. Her eyes scan the room and a small smile crosses her expression.

"It seems like there's a lot of tension in here," She says, snapping her fingers. Her floating roll of parchment and quill magically appear before her. "Perfect timing on my behalf."

"What do you want?" Atlas asks, pocketing his wand.

"I'm just finishing asking everyone questions," She says sweetly. "You're all the Aurors I have left to talk to."

"I'm not dealing with this right now," Nisha snaps before abruptly getting up and striding past Kishi, not bothering to stop for anything.

"Someone's moody," Kishi says, barely glancing at the door. "And I thought that was Mr Alden's speciality."

"It is," Atlas says, following suit with Nisha. "I'm unavailable for questioning."

He quickly follows Nisha in suit and spots the woman striding up the corridor.

"God, I hate that woman," Nisha sighs as Atlas jogs to catch up. She extracts a pipe from her coat and sticks it in between her teeth before promptly lighting it with her wand. "She's always sticking her nose where no one wants it. I'd rather be doing paperwork than answering her questions."

She sucks in a large breath before letting a large plume of purple smoke blow from her mouth. Atlas looks up at Nisha curiously.

"How do you know her?" He asks, watching the staggeringly tall witch.

"She blew a case for me a few years back," Nisha says with a scowl. Red smoke billows from her nose at the memory. "A damn important one too. Ruined my chances of leading a big mission ever again."

She continues to suck on her pipe, glowering.

"I'm pissed," Nisha suddenly says, taking her pipe from her mouth. She peers into the bowl and taps it with her wand. The contents refill themselves and she pockets her wand. "First, we were dragged back over here without any warning. Secondly, Kimi fucking Kishi is trying to get more dirt for her stupid articles, and now, Travers wants us to march over to Dumbledore and Darvish is being an absolute twat-"

"Oh, look!" Atlas says, hastily interrupting Nisha. "Has that portrait always been there?"

As Atlas points to a random painting, a small group of trainee Aurors troupe past, each of them looking battered and bruised. Several of them nod in Nisha's direction, clearly knowing who she was and her reputation amongst the ranks of the Aurors. The pair wait for the group to walk out of earshot, stopping by the main owl post in the department.

"I already want this day to be over and it's barely begun," She sighs, exhaling green smoke this time. "I just want to get this thing over with. We could be out there, in Paris, looking for Grindelwald and Credence right now. Instead, we're stuck at the ministry and planning to piss off one of the most powerful wizards in the wizarding world today."

"I take it neither of you two liked the plan either," A new voice says from behind them. A pair of footsteps grow louder and Atlas turns to see Theseus' heading their way. "Travers just wants to create a tie between Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry - not that it's guaranteed to work."

"You can say that again," Nisha grumbles, puffing away. The corner of Theseus' mouth twitches upwards at the comment. "The last thing that man wants is to leave Hogwarts."

"I need one of you to come be a witness for me," Theseus says, looking between the two Aurors. "It's just a small trial."

"As much as I hate it, I've got a mountain of paperwork to do," Nisha says, adjusting her pipe. Her eyes land on Atlas who gives Theseus a small nod.

"I can come. I'm mostly up to date with everything," Atlas says. Theseus smiles. "Where is it?"

"It's in the international travels department. It starts in about fifteen minutes," He replies, glancing at his plain wristwatch. "I'll take you now."

"I'll see you later, Nisha," Atlas says, hastily following Theseus. "We can catch up over lunch or something."

As the two men walk away, Theseus looks curiously at Atlas.

"You and Gore seem friendly," He comments, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

"Nisha's nice," Atlas says, unfazed by the implied meaning. "Well, nicer than people say she is."

"Is that so?" Theseus says, raising an eyebrow. The two approach the gated lift at the end of the hallway. "How nice?"

"Nice enough to be a friend," Atlas says firmly, raising an eyebrow in return. Theseus nods slowly, a mischievous glint in his eye. The pair stride into the open and empty elevator.

"More than friends, maybe?"

Atlas lets out a single loud bark if laughter, pocketing his hands as the doors clang shut inside the elevator.

"Yeah, that's definitely not in the cards," Atlas deadpans as they shoot backward. "What's the hearing I'm witnessing?"

"Just an attempt to renew international travel documents," Theseus says lightly and takes hold of one of the handles dangling from the ceiling. "Nothing exciting."

"What low-level hearing requires two witnesses?" Atlas asks, also taking hold of a handle.

"You'll see soon enough," He replies.

The elevator comes to a jarring halt and the doors slide open. Theseus leads Atlas out of the lift and down one of the many spacious, yet curving corridors, at the Ministry. Owls soar overhead and house elves clean the seemingly infinite number of windows lining the walls.

Two familiar voices drift from up ahead of the two Aurors as they continue down the corridor. As they come around a bend in the hall, Atlas sees a witch and a wizard standing outside a dark door - both of whom he knew.

Newt Scamander looks up from his conversation with Leta Lestrange and clams up almost instantly, offering her a short response to whatever they had previously been discussing.

"Newt still needs his international travel documents renewed?" Atlas asks quietly, glancing at the eldest Scamander brother.

"Yes," He replies with a low voice. "The Ministry didn't take too well to the obscurial destroying New York and partially pinned the blame on him."

Atlas nods before giving both Newt and Leta a small smile.

"Welcome back," Leta says, returning the smile. "I hope they haven't got you working hard already."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Atlas says.

"I was just talking to Newt about coming to dinner," Leta says, turning her attention to Theseus as he steps forward to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Wow," He says, looking at his younger brother who was now highly interested in whatever was on the floor. "Really?"

"I've been busy," Newt mumbles.

"With your book, yes," Theseus says, a small smile flickering across his face before returning to a more serious expression. "Now, before we go in there-"

"I know this is my fifth attempt, Theseus," Newt says with a small sigh. Atlas' eyebrow quirks upward slightly. His fifth time? The ministry hardly ever had hearings this many times - unless...

"No, Newt, this isn't like any of the other times," Theseus explains, glancing at Atlas. "This is... look, just try and keep an open mind. And maybe be a little less..."

"Like me," Newt finishes. 

"Well it can't hurt," Theseus says. He meets Atlas' gaze and gives him a small nod. "Come on. Let's go."

He gestures for Newt to go inside the room and his brother obliges. Atlas follows, stopping beside Theseus.

"What do they want from him?" He asks quietly as Newt walks into the room.

"You'll see," Theseus says, his voice equally as quiet. "You'll see."


End file.
